


A Lovely Touch

by Eshli



Series: For Those Who Wonder [2]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cultural Appropriation, Dildos, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:38:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eshli/pseuds/Eshli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The other side of The Curious Nature of Hobbits. From Bilbo's perspective as he utilizes the Lovely Touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lovely Touch

**Author's Note:**

> I highly suggest reading the first part to this story called the Curious Nature of Hobbits. Simply for the sake of this one making a little more sense.

The most important thing about a Lovely Touch was the quality of the wood. Most hobbits spent a year finding the perfect piece of wood to use as the foundation. They needed something very durable yet soft and pliable to the touch. Then again, Bilbo supposed it depended on the individual hobbit! He knew of a hobbit or two who had made their Lovely Touches from wood as tough as stone.

Bilbo was a gentle sort though, as much as anyone could bother to guess of him. The Lovely Touch that he had had most of his entire life since he was a young hobbit of the age of only twenty years old had been a beautiful thing. The wood was of pine and had this crisp natural smell to it that never went away. It reminded him of the earth and mud and all things good and pleasant.

He’d been very fond of that object. It had been the first thing he’d ever made with his own bare hands and he’d been so proud of it. The rabbits he had worked into the wood had been a little jarred in their carving but they still looked enough like rabbits that he had grinned from ear to ear at the final product.

It certainly had not been the best Lovely Touch he had ever laid his eyes upon but it had been _his._ He grew familiar with it. His body adjusted around it and it took off an edge he had never known he had. He had grown to be comfortable with his body.

The Lovely Touch had never been _just_ for satisfying sexual urges until marriage. There was something about it that synchronized beautifully with a hobbit’s personal self-esteem. It gave them confidence where they would have otherwise lacked on their wedding night. It allowed them the comfort of exploring themselves.

It was simply… _lovely_.

Most hobbits had the luxury of remaining right where they lived. In a hole in the ground with all of the privacy in the world. Most hobbits did _not_ go off on ridiculous adventures with a bunch of dwarves where there would be very _little_ privacy at all.

He’d thought to bring it along anyway. Just in case they stopped by an inn along the way. As it turned out, his handkerchief had not been the only thing forgotten on that fateful morning he joined Thorin and his company. The Lovely Touch was left behind as well.

Bilbo thought he would manage just fine without it. He seemed to be fine enough without a handkerchief and that had really caused quite a stir in him! A hobbit without a handkerchief? Absurd! But he had managed.

And for a while, he managed without the Lovely Touch as well.

It was easy to do what with being so on edge all of the time. Worrying about things like horrible orcs and ghoulish goblins was enough to distract him from his body’s own natural ways.

Then they reached Beorn’s place. And it was splendid and wonderful to watch all of the animals scurrying around and servicing them to delicious foods and honey of the likes of which Bilbo had never tasted before. That had been distracting. For a little while.

There was an itch to scratch though and being around men as noble and captivating as Thorin Oakenshield were hardly helping that itch. He was growing uncomfortable. He was a gentlehobbit, he truly was, and hobbits were not the vivacious type to just roll on over to their stomachs and offer themselves up like a gutted pig to whomever was hungriest. 

It wasn’t appropriate. Even if it was, Bilbo could hardly imagine ever gathering the nerve. Thorin, though they were on much friendlier terms by now, was intimidating. Though Bilbo now comfortably spoke with him and could sit by his side during meals, the very thought of laying down against Thorin’s furs and offering his body up was….was…

Well. It was what led up to the moment of the now. In other words, Bilbo scrounging through the woods for the perfect piece of wood.

“He wouldn’t take me anyway,” Bilbo muttered, removing a twig from his curled hair.

Then he saw it.

An ash tree lay on its side. It must have fallen during a storm at some point not too long ago. It still looked relatively alive, not yet grown dry and ruined with time. He went to the tree and smoothed his hand over its side.

He had never thought to use an ash tree before. Not many had grown around the Shire and if any had, it was much too far into the forest than any hobbit was willing to go- even a Took.

He’d found an ideal branch and snapped it off. Rushing back to the odd home of Gandalf’s friend, he became invested in crafting a new Lovely Touch. So much so that he forgot his manners to address the dwarves besides murmurs and mumblings.

It was such a commonplace thing, a Lovely Touch, among hobbits that he didn’t think to carve it in the privacy of his own room. A Lovely Touch oftentimes took weeks to carve. Mostly because the average hobbit who was making their first had many other things to do to fill his time with. They were not in the company of dwarves in a mystical home filled with fascinating animals for days on end with nothing else to do but to fill their stomachs and tell stories.

So he carved constantly.

His spirits were lifted. Not only did he have access to seven meals and a clean bed and clean clothing and things pleasant, but he’d soon have the one thing he might have missed most of Bag End that had nothing to do with his books or his garden.

Finally, on one particularly wonderful evening, Bilbo was finished with it.

He turned it over in his hands, marveling over his own craftsmanship. With age had come talent, he supposed. Even his original had not taken such a beautiful form as this one.

“Is it done then?” asked a voice suddenly, interrupting him from admiring his own work. He startled quite a bit and found himself blushing heatedly up into the very tips of his ears. Had he been so oblivious? He stared up at Bofur, speechless, because it was the first time he had ever even considered that dwarves were unfamiliar with a Lovely Touch.

“Oh. Yes, yes it is,” Bilbo confirmed quickly. He stood up at once, holding the toy close against his chest. He opened his mouth at Bofur a couple of times before he gave up on thinking of anything clever or polite to say. Instead, he took his leave. He was anxious to try the new Lovely Touch anyway. It was a bit bigger than his old one had been. And definitely smoother with finer ridges. Excitement swelled up in his stomach.

Once he was behind the safety of his closed and locked door, Bilbo let out a breath he hadn’t know he had been holding. He took himself to his bed and set the toy on his lap. He stared at it for a moment and proceeded to unbutton his shirt.

 

* * *

 

 

It’d been so much better than he had remembered. He wasn’t sure if it had been the lack of the toy in his life that suddenly made him appreciate it so much more or if it was the quality of the toy or the fact that his ecstasy was now aided with a face to sink his pleasure even deeper than shadowy bodies had done so in the pass.

It was rare for hobbits to think of others when they utilized the Lovely Touch. It was more of a sensational experience. You focused on the way it _felt_ and the way your _body_ felt instead of a reason to be _aroused._ Sexuality for a hobbit was extremely personal, in that way. Besides, it was commonly considered indecent to imagine another hobbit, or what have you, in compromising and sultry positions with oneself. Even though it was only in your mind, it still would make the typical hobbit blush to even think of. How indecent it was of the one being pictured!

Yet last night, it hadsimply _happened._

One moment, Bilbo had been relaxing, thinking on his breathing and the way his feet felt sliding against the soft linin of the bed sheet below him and the next, he could hear Thorin’s deep, rumbling voice in his ear, trembling through his entire body as if Thorin was there with him, speaking against him.

It’d spiked the situation so much that Bilbo hadn’t lasted three more seconds. It had shocked him to react in such a way. And over someone who wasn’t his wedded! It was rightfully embarrassing.

Yet when he awoke the next morning, he felt more relaxed and contented than he had for weeks now.

He found himself joining in song with the dwarves and drinking with them and laughing good-heartedly at their silly jokes. He was even patting the animals of Beorn’s and danced with a dog and passed a riddle on to one of the rabbits. He couldn’t help but smile. Things were right in the world of Bilbo Baggins.

Though he couldn’t quite look at the King without feeling heated in a way that had nothing to do with blushing. It, instead, made his skin tingle and his gut twist over in the most pleasantly anxious way that had him pressing his thighs together and grinding his heels into the ground.

He was thankful when Thorin left, for whatever reason it was, and let out a breathless sigh.

Just before dinner, Bilbo slipped away during the dwarves’ singing. He doubted very much that anyone had noticed his abrupt recess and if they had, surely no one would seek him out. He could only hope.

Bilbo knew he wouldn’t be able to access the toy as freely when they began to journey again to Erebor, so he knew he must take what he could while he could. If that meant a little overindulgence, then so be it. He went to his room and sealed the door shut behind him. He patted the back of his hand against his forehead and chuckled uselessly.

“My,” he muttered to himself, “I seem to be quite hot.”

He fell to his bed. He didn’t yet reach for his toy but instead let his fingers touch here and there very lightly on his own chest. With his eyes shut, Bilbo barely brushed over his nipples, slipping his fingers between his shirt and chest to start to undo his buttons.

He wondered if it had been Thorin undressing him, whether or not the King would handle him with care or brutality. Would he rip apart his shirt with the starvation of a mad man or would he treat Bilbo delicately as he would a sacred relic?

Bilbo couldn’t determine which he would like better.

Though when he snapped apart his belt and wrenched open the front of his trousers, he felt he knew how he’d want to have been taken right then.

Grasping his toy, he pulled it out from under his bed as he kicked his trousers off. His breath came shaky and he slid his knees up and apart. Tonight, he would envision Thorin without shame. Even if it made him blush, even if it made him have to turn his head over and bite a mouthful of pillow in case anyone were to hear him, he thought of Thorin.

When he left his room, he wondered how he was possibly walking.

It wasn’t necessarily typical for a Lovely Touch to be used so…roughly but Bilbo could hardly deny the way it felt to have it ramming incessantly deep inside of him, pulling through his legs and shaking him thoroughly of his senses.

He set his hand against the wall, taking a very slow breath to remind himself of his gentle ways. He must remain a proper hobbit. Just because he was out in the woods with a bunch of brutish dwarves did not mean he had to start rutting about and howling like some beast in heat.

Straightening his back, Bilbo adjusted his suspenders and strode down the hall without so much as a hinder in his step.

That is until he saw Thorin.

After that, Bilbo was useless throughout dinner.

When it came to an end, he stood to leave for retirement. He needed to be alone. He needed to _breathe._ Thorin’s eyes had felt heavy on him all night long, as they always seemed to be, but tonight, they made him feel so much more than usual. He didn’t feel nervous or uncertain. He simply felt ignited.

But then Kili was grasping his arm and Fili was insisting he stick about for a drink. It’d been some time since he had really _properly_ joined the dwarves for a good after-dinner drink so he relented. It would be good for him to break for now. Maybe the alcohol would even serve to take his mind off of things.

It only served to make matters worse.

It wasn’t that he had much more to drink than he should have, but he had enough to make his head light and his tongue loose. Sitting on either side of him were both of the brothers and their body heat and throaty laughter and everything else didn’t help Bilbo to forget the source of his desires.

Finally, he dismissed himself for the evening, perhaps a bit too quickly, and hurriedly left before anyone else could call his attention.

Once inside of his chambers, Bilbo undressed completely. Often he would leave his shirt on, even though he always unbuttoned it, and would remove his trousers. Not tonight.

Tonight, he stripped every last inch of cloth off of his body and stood naked in his room for a moment.

He knew why his obsession with Thorin was suddenly so fierce. He’d allowed himself to think of Thorin like he would a husband. Not that his feelings weren’t there but for a hobbit to think so…so sexually of another…It only fed the flames.

What had once been easily tucked into the very back of his mind and forgotten about because of the lack of chance Bilbo had with the great King was now screaming in his face like a wild animal demanding to be heard.

It had been idiotic of him to let Thorin enter his mind during the throes of something so personal. He knew it would only lead to his feelings for Thorin worsening.

He was a slave to his own heart. And now, a slave to his own body.

He went to his bed and grabbed the toy out from under the pillow.

Bilbo thought of what it would be like to take Thorin as his husband. He slipped down to lay on the bed on his side, the toy cradled against his bare chest. Thorin dressed up with flowers woven into his beard and surrounded by pleasantly smiling hobbitfolk.

Bilbo laughed at that. He didn’t really think that a hobbit wedding would suit the majestic king but he knew nothing of dwarf tradition to conjure up a dwarf-held wedding. Let alone one for a _king._

He thought of Thorin. The way that his arms had felt the first time they had wrapped Bilbo up in such a secure and _grateful_ embrace. Bilbo had felt so much of Thorin’s body then. He could feel how sturdy and firm the King was.

Bilbo thought of Thorin taking him to bed on their wedding night. Of him laying him down on a grand bed covered with the finest furs. He thought of Thorin worshipping him as if _he_ were the one of royal lineage. Bilbo brought his fingers to his own mouth, kissing the tips, thinking of Thorin’s lips doing the deed instead.

His breath quickened in excitement. His thighs trembled and rubbed together and he rolled over onto his back.

“Thorin,” he dared to whisper into the still darkness of his room. He thought, embarrassingly, his voice sounded erotic like that and he wondered if Thorin would have liked the way it sounded or not. Would he want to try and press Bilbo to whisper his name again?

Bilbo imagined he would.

He let his hand touch down him, fingers tapping here and there, like ghost touches of a king who had never kissed him before. Biting into his lip, his fingers met his cock, which to his surprise, was already entirely erect.

“Oh,” he supposed, taken aback by how pliable his body had become under the explicit thought of Thorin.

Wrapping his palm around the curve of the base, he wrapped his fingers tight and slowly began to pump himself. It was a mild tease. He liked it well enough but he’d discovered long ago that he much preferred working fingers and his toy inside of his body than he did playing with his cock.

So he quickly abandoned that, moving his fingers down between his thighs and up to where his cheeks split apart. Sliding his finger against the soft skin of his puckered hole, he could barely ignore the flip in his stomach. He could only dream of calloused fingers rubbing against him instead of his own soft ones.

He pushed his first finger in, working the already loosened flesh apart yet again. His body opened to him, worked apart from his earlier extravaganza with the Lovely Touch.  He could still feel remnants of the oil he’d used. A small vial of honey-smelling oil that he’d found in the house that had been most ideal for this purpose.

That very vial was what he pulled out from below the bed. He rolled it in his palm and ignored it in favor of forcing his body to adjust to the intrusion of his finger. After a few taunting seconds of his index finger wiggling against his quivering flesh, he pushed the tight ring apart with his second finger, easing it down in and struggling not to groan too loudly as it sank all the way in with pleasant ease.

Spreading his legs apart, he could feel imagined hands pushing them apart, warm and heavy with experience. His fingers pushed apart and his eyes popped open. For a moment, he could swear he could see Thorin looking down at him, as vivid as if he were truly there. Yet he was not. Bilbo hung onto that blue stare, the intensity behind it, and let it trigger him to using a third finger.

Would Thorin pose a smirk at him for Bilbo’s sudden gasp? Would he chuckle throatily if he were to arch all three of his fingers up and in inside of Bilbo and watch as it made the poor hobbit arch off the bed a bit? Or would he remain silent and appreciative while Bilbo split apart below him?

Bilbo removed his fingers at long last and fumbled with the vial of oil. He dripped it over the toy, careful to not use too much, and eventually tucked the vial back under his bed. Spreading the oil out over the length and girth of the toy, Bilbo wondered, not for the first time, how big Thorin would be. He knew nothing of dwarf anatomy but he had a gut-feeling Thorin wouldn’t be too far off from the toy’s size.

What the toy lacked was the warmth, the pulsating throb of someone who wanted Bilbo as badly as he wanted them, but so far his imagination had not failed him and so when he started to ease the toy into the hilt of his body, he hissed through his teeth and his toes curled into the sheets under him.

He slid the toy in all the way until his whole body sheathed it save for the handle, of which he had grasped just barely between his firm fingers. He rotated the toy, letting the ridges slide against his walls, making him hum and purr and twitch.

Then he slid the toy out a couple of inches. Paused.

Then he slammed it in, ramming it straight into that delightful spot that made Bilbo go blind for a moment and gasp out. He did it again and again and again until his whole body was shaking and he was trying desperately not to scream. More than that, he was trying pathetically hard not to scream _Thorin’s_ name.

He fucked the toy into himself, fucking at different angles, different paces. Sometimes he’d abruptly slow it down, dragging it almost all the way out of himself before he’d shove it back in, hard and ruthless, before slowly pulling it all the way back out. Then the next moment would be shallow thrusts, demanding against his body.

He was panting, he knew he was, but he couldn’t help himself. The idea of Thorin Oakenshield holding his thighs and forcing his knees down on either side of his head made him weak all over. The idea of Thorin forcing him up into his lap to ride him out made him spin and the idea of being taken bent over the bed and forced down by a strong hand at his back made him cry out desperately.

It was with that final image that broke Bilbo apart. He came over his stomach, not needing so much as a touch to his cock to do so, and his body seized up tight around the toy, swallowing it in and keeping it secure until he managed to force himself to calm down.

When he did, he gazed at the ceiling blankly, his chest rising and falling in quick succession and his body relaxed around the toy. It eased out of him naturally though he pulled it out half way and set it aside. He slid his legs together, knees trembling, and he shut his eyes at long last.

He knew this ordeal, his feelings, about Thorin would have to be dealt with sooner than he would of ever liked to have dealt with. But that would be something worth worrying about in the morning.

For now, exhausted, he fell into a dreamless slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> I sincerely hope this was well worth the wait. I am sorry this took long to get out here and published. I really hope you guys like it! The third extension and actual continuation should come relatively soon. In which Thorin proposes to Bilbo.


End file.
